The door clicked shut behind me.
For a brief second, the house felt… different.
Occupied.
Not by noise, not by chaos, but by presence.
I stepped further inside, and that's when I saw him.
Asher.
Seated casually on the couch in the hallway, one arm resting along the backrest like he belonged there. Like he had always belonged there.
Same posture.
Same quiet confidence.
And those eyes–
Still that same sharp, unreadable glint in his brown eyes. Not warmth. Not softness. Just awareness. The kind that notices more than it should.
He looked up the moment I entered.
Of course he did.
Waiting.
I stopped for half a second.
Not long enough for anyone to notice.
Then I walked in like nothing had shifted.
"Oh. Hi, Lune."
His voice carried that same familiar ease. Too familiar.
I looked at him, letting my gaze pass over him without lingering.
Measured. Distant.
"Hi," I said calmly. "Long time."
A pause.
Then, flatly–
"Why are you here?"
He smiled slightly.
Not offended. Not surprised.
"I came to see you."
I didn't react.
"It's your result day," he added. "Thought I'd congratulate you."
I raised an eyebrow.
"It's in two hours."
"Yes," he said, leaning back slightly, completely unbothered. "I know."
A pause.
"I just prefer getting here early."
His gaze stayed on me.
Steady.
Intentional.
"Waiting suits me."
I exhaled quietly, already irritated.
Of course it does.
I looked away.
"Not everyone enjoys wasting time."
From the kitchen, my mother's voice cut through.
"Lune, take Asher to your room. Don't leave him sitting there alone."
I stilled for a fraction of a second.
Of course.
Always accommodating.
Always adjusting.
Always making space for people who never needed permission to take it.
I turned slightly.
"Do I look like a host to you?" I muttered under my breath.
Asher stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.
"Come on," he said lightly. "Don't make this more dramatic than it needs to be."
I gave him a look.
Cold. Flat.
"You being here is already more than necessary."
He smiled again.
Unmoved.
"Still coming?"
I turned toward the stairs.
"Try not to touch anything."
My room hadn't changed.
And I preferred it that way.
I stepped inside and moved toward the bed, sitting down without looking at him.
Asher followed, closing the door behind him before taking a seat across from me.
Too comfortable.
Too familiar.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then–
"So," he started, glancing around, "still the same."
I didn't respond.
"Not much changes with you, does it?"
"I don't see a reason for it to."
He studied me for a second.
Then leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.
"Do you remember," he said slowly, "what you told me last year?"
I didn't look at him.
"Don't."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"You stood right in front of me," he continued anyway, "and said you liked me."
My gaze snapped to him.
Sharp.
"Finish that sentence and leave."
He didn't stop.
"You were serious too."
"Get out of my room if you're here to repeat nonsense."
My voice was calm.
Too calm.
But my eyes didn't move away from his.
He leaned back slightly, watching me now with more interest.
"No matter how much you avoid it," he said quietly, "it happened."
Silence.
Tight.
Controlled.
Then–
"I don't repeat mistakes," I said flatly.
A pause.
"And I don't entertain them either."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So that's what I am now?"
"A mistake?" he asked, almost amused.
I didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
That landed.
But not the way it should have.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't get defensive.
Instead
"I don't believe that."
Of course he doesn't.
"You don't have to," I replied.
He leaned closer this time.
Not enough to invade.
Just enough to make his presence more… noticeable.
"You can pretend all you want," he said, voice lower now, "but I know you."
"No," I said.
"You knew a version of me."
A pause.
"That doesn't exist anymore."
His gaze didn't shift.
"I can bring her back."
A faint scoff left me.
"In your dreams."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unresolved.
And then–
My phone rang.
The sound cut cleanly through the tension.
I glanced at the screen.
Marcos.
Of course.
I stood up immediately.
"I'll be back."
I didn't wait for a response.
The balcony door slid shut behind me.
The air outside was quieter. Cooler.
Cleaner.
I answered the call.
"Hello."
"You reached home safe?"
His voice.
Familiar now.
I leaned slightly against the railing.
"Yes."
"Good."
A small pause.
"You didn't text."
"I wasn't obligated to."
A soft exhale came from his side.
"Still the same."
I allowed a faint hint of amusement into my tone.
"Did you expect a personality shift overnight?"
"Maybe," he said lightly.
Another pause.
Then–
"Today's the result."
"I'm aware."
"You nervous?"
"No."
He chuckled softly.
"I am."
"That's unfortunate."
"Wow," he said, half-laughing. "You're very comforting."
"I don't aim to be."
Silence.
But not empty.
Then his voice softened slightly.
"It would be nice… if we end up in the same college."
I didn't respond immediately.
Instead, I looked out at the street below.
People moving.
Unaware.
Uninvolved.
"Let's see," I said.
A brief pause.
"Don't start assuming outcomes."
He was quiet for a second.
Then–
"I think I want that outcome."
My lips curved slightly.
Dangerous.
"You think a lot of things."
Before he could respond,
The balcony door opened.
Footsteps.
Close.
"Who are you talking to?"
Asher.
Right behind me.
At the same time,
"Who's there?"
Marcos.
On the call.
I didn't turn.
"Relax," I said calmly. "It's just my cousin."
Silence on both ends.
Then,
"I'll call you later," I added.
And ended the call.
I turned slowly.
Asher was standing there, watching me.
Not casually this time.
Focused.
Curious.
"Since when do you take calls like that?" he asked.
I walked past him.
"Since I felt like it."
He followed.
"Who was that?"
I stopped.
Turned.
And looked at him directly.
"You ask a lot of unnecessary questions."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
A pause.
His expression shifted slightly.
Not irritation.
Something sharper.
"Have you moved on already?" he asked.
The question lingered.
I held his gaze.
"From what?"
That was enough.
He didn't answer.
Didn't push further.
But I could see it now,
The thought forming.
The calculation.
Who is he?
What changed?
When did this happen?
Good.
Let him wonder.
An hour later, we were back downstairs.
The results were out.
My mother hovered nearby, pretending not to be anxious.
Asher stood beside me, arms crossed, watching the screen.
"Check it," he said.
I did.
The numbers appeared.
Clear.
Expected.
I passed.
Not just passed.
Qualified.
Exactly where I needed to be.
No surprise.
Asher glanced at the screen.
A small smile formed.
"I knew it."
I didn't respond.
Instead, I pulled out my phone again.
Opened Marcos' results.
Same score.
Same qualification.
Same path.
A pause.
A quiet, almost invisible shift inside me.
My lips curved slightly.
Not wide.
Not obvious.
Just enough.
This wasn't coincidence.
It never was.
People like him believed in things like timing.
Luck.
Fate.
I didn't.
I watched the numbers again.
Precise.
Aligned.
Controlled.
"I wondered how it would play out," I thought quietly.
A faint breath.
"But this…"
My gaze darkened slightly.
"This is better."
Asher glanced at me.
"You're smiling."
I looked at him.
Amused.
"Am I?"
He studied me carefully.
More carefully than before.
Something in his expression had changed.
He noticed it.
But he didn't understand it.
No one ever did.
And that was exactly how it was meant to be.
Because while everyone else waited for results–
I had already decided the outcome.
And now…
Things were finally starting to get interesting.
The message came just as the house settled into its usual evening quiet.
Come outside. I need to tell you something.
No emojis. No hesitation.
Just intention.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds, thumb resting lightly against the edge of my phone.
Important.
People always think their "important" moments are different.
They rarely are.
I locked the screen, slipped the phone into my pocket, and stood up.
No announcement. No explanation.
I stepped out of the house the same way I always did–quietly, without asking, without waiting.
The street outside was dimly lit, the air carrying that late-evening stillness where everything feels slightly slower than it should.
He was waiting near the corner.
Not directly in front of the gate.
Of course.
Marcos leaned against the low wall, head slightly lowered, hands in his pockets. When he saw me, he straightened almost immediately.
His attention locked onto me like it had been waiting.
I walked toward him, unhurried, stopping just a few steps away.
"What is it?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away.
There was something different in his posture tonight.
Not nervous.
Not relaxed.
Just… certain.
I tilted my head slightly, a faint edge of amusement slipping into my tone.
"Do you really want me to thank you for helping me with exams that badly?"
Silence.
Then,
He looked straight at me.
No hesitation.
No shift in expression.
Just clarity.
"Will you date me?"